


Broken hearts, shattered lives

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Hospital, I'm Sorry, Injured John, One Shot, POV Sherlock Holmes, Please Don't Hate Me, Sad Ending, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accidents happen and when they do they change everything you thought you knew about the world...</p><p>John is in hospital and Sherlock refuses to leave his bedside. This is sad and emotional, and was written when my head was in a bad place. I shouldn't write fan-fiction after having major heart surgery.</p><p>It's also quite old and my writing style has changed since then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken hearts, shattered lives

The sun should not be shining so brightly today...there should not be people outside laughing and joking, their eyes alight with life. Instead everything, the entire world, should be as grey and lifeless as the inside of this hospital room where the only sound is the beeping of a heart rate monitor. Though some people may find the incessant noise irritating I find it rather comforting. Every little beep, every spike, is a sign that John is still alive. 

My breath hitches and I swallow hard against the sob threatening to burst from my throat. How did this happen? It was only an hour ago we were happy; smiling and laughing beneath a brilliant summer's sky. My hands begin to shake and I clench them in my lap. It doesn't help. Instead the rest of my body begins to tremble uncontrollably until I can barely breathe. 

Abruptly I rise to my feet and pace the room like a caged animal, my shoes squeaking on the highly polished floor. I need to calm down and think rationally, to try and work out how we ended up here. I force myself to stop and slowly turn towards the bed. 

John looks so small lying there amongst all the machines with most of his body covered in bandages and his face mottled with nasty looking bruises. His chest rises and falls, his breathing controlled by the clear plastic tube going down his throat. The doctors are not confident he will wake up from his coma- too much trauma to the body for the brain to fix is what they keep saying. But I still have faith he will wake up. John Watson is nothing if not a fighter. Everything will be fine. Feeling calmer than I did before I sit back down and reach out to take John's hand, as though holding on will somehow anchor him to this life and prevent him from leaving. 

I can not believe it has been ten years since we were first introduced. It seems longer when I look back over some of the things that happened... From the early days of Moriarty trying to kill me all the way to the unfortunate incident when I faked my own death. Which is definitely not one of my proudest moments. But despite all the pain and the heartache I have put John through, he has stayed by my side. Something for which I was will always be eternally grateful. After all that it doesn't seem right it could end with a quiet whimper as he slips away... No. I can't think like that. I have to remain positive because I know that any day now he is going to wake up. Since the day I discovered John loved me as much I did him my life has felt like a wonderful dream. Now however it has turned into a nightmare. 

I begin to shake and a single tear drips down my cheek. I swallow back a sob and angrily wipe the back of my hand across my eyes. I am Sherlock Holmes! I don't sit around in hospitals and cry! Maybe if I focus my thoughts on something else it'll help take my mind off what is happening. 

Closing my eyes I go back to the park earlier today, remembering the feel of the sun on my skin and John's lips on mine... But then the scene changes as I remember what else happened. There is the sound of our raised voices, squealing brakes and the sound of metal striking flesh... Suddenly I can it hold back the tears. An explosive sob bursts out of me and tears burn my eyes, dripping down my cheeks. This time I make no move to wipe them away. 

Before I met John I believed emotions were inconveniences that clouded your judgement and prevented you from clearly observing the world around you. I know now how wrong I was to think that. John Watson was a breath of fresh air in my stale existence. He opened my eyes to a world where emotions are to be cherished rather than buried. Like every good relationship it worked both ways, or at least I like to think I helped heal some of the trauma John brought back from the war. 

With a sigh I once more turn my attention to John lying so still on the bed. I should have seen this coming really. I have found, from observing other people's lives, that despite what any of us believe happiness is always short lived. Eventually, whether it takes days or years, tragedy will catch up with you. I should be grateful John and I got to spend any time at all as a happy couple. Through blurred eyes I gaze down at the ring on my finger and feel a smile tug faintly at the corners of my mouth. At least I got to share even a tiny part of my life with him. 

But I refuse to give up hope just yet. My grip on John's hand tightens. Miracles have been known to happen. John's face is so peaceful it seems a shame to wake him up. Leaning forward I lightly press a kiss to his forehead. "John, if you can hear me- please wake up or open your eyes. Please. I-I don't know how to carry on without you. I-I need you. My voice shakes uncontrollably. John shows no sign of having heard me. Outside this stuffy little room life continues to move forward, but here in this room time is horrible still, as though the world is holding its breath in anticipation. 

Please. Please, for the love of God, let John live. 


End file.
